Ephemeral, Ethereal
by umi sonodank
Summary: "It's the fleeting moments that are the most beautiful."


It is an undeniable fact that, more often than not, life can be unpleasant. Maybe that's an understatement – indeed, life can be irksome, invidious, impinging; or, in the eloquent words of Haruka, simply, "just a little shit". And, even worse, that's only just talking about the troubles of ordinary, everyday life, lived by ordinary, everyday people: in other words, it's a lot harder when you take the fact that you're a *magical protector and guardian of the local galaxy from strange space aliens and weirdos* into account. Therefore, it's understandable that sometimes, it can all get a bit too much. After all, when—at the core—you're just a normal, regular, middle-school girl who wants to do normal, regular, middle-school things, such a heavy burden resting upon your shoulders can sometimes be too heavy for you to even try to walk. But, even if it's just in the form of a struggling, stumbling, spiritless crawl reminiscent of that of a pained tortoise, life expects you to just... get on with it. By that, to wake up, go to school, live your life and just get on with it, with no questions or qualms, just like any other 'normal' person. Realistically speaking, such an upfront lack of sympathy from those who surround you can be discouraging—not that they have rudeness or harsh feelings in mind, but rather just ignorance, and a lack of awareness about what you do, or what you're going through. You're forced to get on with it, with no help or recognition, barely just a "thanks for saving my life, my city and my integrity with your super cool magical powers!" from anybody. Nothing. Zilch. Zero: actually, not even just a meager, "thank you," at all, from anyone. And let's not disregard the fact that _all_ of this time, you're forced to be painstakingly aware that, as a sailor senshi, you're burdened with this curse. You're stuck with a secret so fragile, perhaps your entire world could come crashing down around you if you were to even let a little of it spill. To be frank, the life lived by a sailor senshi is anything but one entirely filled with rainbows and sunshine; but if you're going to have it hard, the best way to deal with it is to have friends who have it hard with you.

In both the present and in retrospective, it was hardly as if in all of her fourteen years, Kino Makoto had an easy time. Unlike the dreamy, rose-tinted childhoods bundled with a pristine white picket fence, a band-aid for your wounds and a warm blanket for when it's cold outside, she had none of those things. Instead, at the age of merely eight, she learnt how it felt to be completely alone in the world. At the age of eight, when the worries of many children were what their mother was going to cook for dinner that night, she wondered whether she'd be able to eat that night. And at the age of merely eight, her parents were killed in a freak accident, leaving her left with nobody but herself to look out for her. However, she did not set out on making it a sappy, sob-story affair; there was no time for that. Instead, she was just forced to get on with it all; there was no time to wait around for apologies. Even at such a young age, what she'd just witnessed had clearly demonstrated to her that, in such a cold, hard world, there were none to be given. Everyone was far too busy to care about a deprived, traumatized child: as terrible as it was, there wasn't any sympathy longer than a few seconds' glance for her in a world full of people so wholly and utterly interested in purely nothing but their own self-centered affairs. Perhaps the only good thing she gained out of the whole experience was the sense of independence she naturally garnered from it, which over the years, would come to be an instinct that was both a curse and a blessing to both herself and those around her. On the plus side, she wasn't forced to be reliant on others all of the time; miraculously, in some way or the other, she managed to slowly but surely escape from the dark depths of the irrefutably unmerited situation she'd been plunged into as a consequence of it all, and managed to turn out morally decent. But the downside was that she became a stranger to the warmth and kindness of others; after being brutally shoved into such a bleak, lonely situation that contained nothing of the aforementioned ingredients for joy, she gradually began to forget what and how exactly they felt like. The softness of a kiss on the forehead; the gratitude of a loving gift; the much-needed help of another in a time that was difficult. Friendship, a sense of love and camaraderie; these all became forgotten values. Over time, she became stuck in a tumultuous whirlpool of isolation: she voluntarily plunged deeper and deeper in the monster's grasp, spiraling further and further away from the kind, bright lights of concern and affection, trying to tell herself over and over that she'd be fine alone.

She didn't need anybody else but herself: that'd been the way life had been for almost as long as she could think back to, and that'd be the way life would stay.

Beneath the stubborn surface, there raged a burning, ravenous fear that ate away at her from within, convincing her more and more each day that solidarity was the only way, lest she became far too attached to somebody and was forced to helplessly suffer the same unfortunate destiny as she had years before. But, victim to her own endeavours, she was turning in to more and more of an outcast as the years went by. Lies and rumors that deceived the reasonable, trusting sides of her classmates and peers warped their relationships with and opinions of her into ugly, deceitful things; by half-way through her first year of middle school, nobody would speak with her. During her second year of middle school, even the teachers would disregard her. It wasn't because she was a morally wrong or cruel, unfriendly girl at heart; in fact, it was the opposite — during her spare time, to forget the growing feeling of loneliness that she began to feel inside as she aged, she busied herself with cooking, sewing, gardening and cosmetics. She was effeminate and kind, good at heart and willing to help others, painstakingly aware of the heart-break she had suffered herself and actively seeking to minimize that of others. But by now, it had become too late; others ignored her goodwill, and it became increasingly obvious that she had isolated herself from those around her too far to try and repair the damage. She was a brawny loner, rumored to be a careless, ruthless delinquent who took delight in the pain of others; such lies could not be any further than the truth, but they grew and grew and grew until everyone believed them, and there was no way to stop them. Everything had become a disaster, a cluster of pain and loneliness that lit a match and threw it at the once happy, contented life she lived in days long past, and burnt it to ashes. The colours of the world faded slowly away into a monochrome blur: the sky became grey and dreary, trees leafless, gnarling skeletons, and flowers withered into austere, crinkled shells of the vibrant blossoms they once were.

Or so, at the time, it seemed.

But a few months after her fourteenth birthday, life began to brighten up in a way, like the way petals of the bright, golden daffodils that sat on her bedroom windowsill unraveled from buds upon the sunny cusp of spring, or the way a freshly-baked browned cake rose bouncily in an oven. The soft, pink petals of the blooming cherry blossom trees danced and whirled on the gentle breeze, and the sky lit up like an azure sea. Upon transferring to a new school during her eighth year of school, it all changed: there, she met a girl named Usagi, with eyes that twinkled and glittered with love and joy at even the smallest, most forgettable bouts of delight in daily life, and laughed and giggled without a care in the world. She met three other girls that were just like herself; once left trapped in the dark, feeling abandoned and alone, but managed to find happiness in just the little things in life. The fresh early morning winds and drifting pink petals reminiscent of early mornings sweeping the shrine; mastering a difficult part of subject that you just couldn't get your head around for what seemed like forever; when you tried your best to cook a dish, but even though it turned out atrociously, being able to laugh at the memories made; beating your highest score on the hardest level of the Sailor V game in the local arcade. They were a little trivial and quite easy to forget; but what she learnt, as she spent more and more time with her new-found friends, was that the key to happiness was to bask in them. The little moments where you couldn't help but giggle at a terrible joke, or when your mouth dropped a little in shock at a friend's radical plot, or maybe even when a stray tear trickled down your cheek, whether it was in laughter or sorrow. Even when confronted with the shocking discovery of being a sailor senshi, and tirelessly having to combat intimidating enemies or having to spend many sleepless nights tending to painful cuts and bruises that were gained in battle, the way to keep going and get through it all was to appreciate the little moments. Following the lead of her friends, Makoto began to try to do this. At first, just a little, as she stepped tenderly into unknown territory; but then over time, she began to do it a little bit and a little piece and a little snippet more each day.

This way, even when things got difficult, it was okay. It didn't matter whether or not she'd ever be personally recognised or awarded for saving or caring more the citizens of Tokyo, or whether or not she was always the continuous center of attention and affection by everybody who knew her. It didn't matter whether or not she fitted with the other girls at school like a carbon-copy of her classmates, or whether or not her life was all sunshine and happiness every minute of the day. Rather, with the help of her friends, she learnt how to be happy with what she had. Perhaps she'd never be what society constituted as 'normal'—instead, she embraced her Amazonian stature and thundering senshi powers with pride and self-love. With the kindness and affection of her friends, the gaping wounds of loneliness and isolation that stung on the inside began to heal and be patched up with the joyful memories and gaiety of her and the others. In the absence of her mother and father, her friends eventually became her family, caring for her when she was upset, sick or troubled. Usagi would cheer her up with silly jokes, Minako would try her best to make her what was _more or less_ porridge (even though it always resulted in a disaster in some shape or form, she'd accept it with gratitude, grateful for the effort of her friend to make up for what she never had), Ami would teach her interesting facts and scholarly verities to take her mind off of things, and Rei would inform her of the various cryptic visions she'd had last time she'd looked into the shrine's fire. And even though the whole time, she was completely aware that these times wouldn't last for ever—they wouldn't be middle school students forever, and life would get more difficult—that was alright with her, because with the help of her friends, they'd all get through it. Together. Perhaps the many moments they all spent together would end up to be trivial, needless, maybe even thought by others to be a waste of time, that didn't matter. As small and insignificant they were, they all had meaning to her. They were ephemeral, and that was what made them ethereal.

And through it all, if there was only one thing she learnt, it would be this. There was a memory she cherished dearly: during that year's summer festival, dressed in patterned cotton yukata and cotton candy in hand, she had sat on the slope of a grassy hill and watched the fireworks with her friends. At one point, she remembered that sat closely next to her, there had been only Ami; the other three girls had ran off in search of more food—or rather, Minako and Usagi had gone scuttling off in a search for traditional sweets after hearing there was a stand at the festival stocked full of them, and Rei had been not too far behind them, reprimanding the two in case they got lost (she wasn't truly angry at them, however, but instead it was out of love). In the moment whilst the others had been gone, Ami had turned to Makoto, the soft portrait of her face illuminated in the sparkling glow of the nearby fireworks as she met the other girls' gaze, and she gently began to speak.

"Right now, even though this moment may be short and trivial, it's special to us all." Makoto nodded, sharing the mutual feeling of warm, rosy contentment that infatuated the scene. Turning her gaze to the inky night sky, dotted with the marks of glinting white stars and vivid explosions, Ami continued, and Makoto looked up at the dark horizon with her.

"And do you know why? It's because the fleeting moments that are the most beautiful."

As the muffled whining of Usagi and the teasing giggle of Rei grew louder in the background, and an aureate firework exploded into a golden blast of colour against the raven backdrop of the night, Makoto could only focus on two things: the warmth of her cheeks and the beating of her heart.


End file.
